David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

Viruk, it seemed, had not saved her at all, merely set her on another road to extinction.

She had told the shaman she would help destroy Almeia before death could snatch her soul. But the words had been spoken in sudden anger and now she felt the weight of despair descend upon her.

I have done nothing with my life, she thought. Nothing worthwhile.

Then do it now, she told herself. Help to defeat the Almecs.

Talaban!

Who was he? The thought cut through her despair.

Closing her eyes she let her spirit soar over the city. Fires were still burning down by the docks and across the estuary in Pagaru. Sofarita flew on to the harbour and saw the black ship nestling against the wharf.

Dropping down she sank beneath the decks, searching for the captain's quarters. She entered many cabins, but they all seemed small and cramped. At last she moved towards the stern and entered a larger room. A man was seated at a desk. Like all Avatars he looked young, his face square-cut and handsome, his hair almost black, but dyed blue at the shorn temples. There was a hardness to his features, but no sign of cruelty. He was talking to a Vagar — no, she realized, not a Vagar. The man was a tribesman of some kind. His dark hair was braided and he wore a black vest adorned with white bone.

She opened the ears of her spirit. The tribesman was speaking.

'Bad visions I have. Suryet needs me. The People suffer.'

'I want to help you, Touchstone. You know I speak the truth. But my people are also suffering, and until the Questor General gives us permission I cannot sail the Serpent to the west.'

'This I know,' said the tribesman sadly. He was about to speak again when suddenly he turned and looked straight at Sofarita. 'Who you be?' he asked her.

At first she was too shocked to reply. Talaban cut in. 'Who are you talking to?'

'Beautiful woman. Spirit.'

'/ am Sofarita,' she said. 'And you are Touch-the-Moon.'

'That is name I won. Not to be spoken by strangers. You may call me Touchstone.'

'Then I shall. How is it that you can see me?'

'I see many things. Are you dead?'

'Not yet.' She glanced at Talaban, who was sitting quietly, watching the tribesman intently. 'He will think you have lost your senses.'

'You wait for me,' he said. 'Not easy speak in this tongue.'

As she watched him he closed his eyes. A glow began around his head and chest, flickering from red to purple. Then he rose from his body. 'Now we can speak freely, you and I, in the language of spirit,' he said.

'Where are you from, Beautiful One?'

'I live in the city,' she told him. 'The One-Eyed-Fox spoke to me. He told me to find Talaban, and that he alone will know where the last battle is to be fought.'

'He doesn't know yet.' He gazed back at the silent captain. 'He is a good man, that one. The best of them.'

'There is a sadness about him.'

'He lost his love, and the flames of his heart burn low. Are you wed?'

'No.'

'You could blow upon the flames.'

'You seek to match me to a man I have not met. You are very forward, Touchstone.'

He smiled. 'You tell me where to find you and I shall bring him to you — even if I have to club him over the head and carry him.'

'I am at the house ofQuestor Ro. Bring him tomorrow. At dusk: She watched as the tribesman's spirit settled back into his body. His eyes opened.

'And where is the beautiful woman now?' asked Talaban, with a smile.

'She wait. We see her tomorrow. You like her, maybe.'

The smile suddenly left Talaban's face. 'She is the woman the Council sentenced to death. The Vagar with magical powers.'

'Maybe,' agreed Touchstone.

'Is she still here?'

Touchstone turned and gazed at Sofarita. 'No, captain. She gone now.'

'What did you make of her? And I'm not interested in beauty. Is she a danger to my people?'

'How I know this?' responded Touchstone. 'But she speak with One-Eyed-Fox. He say she fight Almecs. You think it right to kill her?'

'No I do not. But it puts me in a difficult position. I am a servant of the Council, and it would be my duty to report a meeting with anyone declared as an enemy of the Avatar.'

'Talk first. Report later,' said Touchstone.

Talaban sighed. 'Do you trust her?'

'Good woman,' said Touchstone.

'Then I shall trust you. We will speak with her.'

'Wear pretty clothes,' advised Touchstone. Talaban laughed, the sound rich and almost musical. Sofarita was amazed at the change the laughter wrought in him. Gone was the hardness, replaced by a boyish warmth which radiated harmony.

And yet somehow it filled her with the knowledge of her own impending doom. Rising through the decks she flew back to her body.

As was usual following flight she awoke refreshed, her body rested. She stretched and rose from the chair. A shadow crossed the doorway opposite and she thought Questor Ro must be awake. Then a second shadow flitted across the opening. Sofarita felt a charge in the air, a prickling sensation that made her fearful. Moving swiftly and silently across the room she stepped out into the darkened hallway just in time to see a figure move from the top of the stairs and into the corridor beyond. Reaching out she felt the emotions of the man above. He was thinking of knives, and blood and death. The death of a hated Avatar.

Questor Ro!

Sofarita ran up the stairs. The door to Questor Ro's room was open. She moved inside. Two men were there.

Both wore black scarves about their faces and both carried knives. One was approaching the bed in which the little man was asleep. The knife came up — and slashed down. Sofarita made a sudden gesture with her right hand. The blade stopped inches short of the sleeping man — to the obvious astonishment of the attacker. The second man saw her and swung towards her. His knife dropped from his fingers, clattering on the stone-tiled floor. Questor Ro awoke with a start. The first knifeman tried to stab him again. This time the knife flew from his fingers to the ceiling, where it lay flat, as if upon the floor.

'What is happening?' shouted Ro. 'How dare you…?'

'All is well, Questor,' said Sofarita. 'These men are Pajists. But they will not harm you.' Ro glanced up at the knife hovering on the ceiling.

'They came to kill me,' he said. 'I shall summon the Watch.'

'No,' said Sofarita. 'They will return to the man who sent them. He will convey a message to the leader of the Pajists. I shall visit with that leader tomorrow at noon. You,' she said, pointing to the man by the bed, 'hold out your hand.' Slowly he did so. The knife floated slowly down from the ceiling, settling gently into his palm.

'Leave now, and deliver my message. Say also that there are to be no more attacks.'

The second man scooped up his knife and both assassins edged around Sofarita and out of the room. She heard them run down the stairs.

'You know the leader of the Pajists?' asked Ro.

'I do now,' she said.

'Why did you let them go? We could have arrested them all.'

'To what purpose, Questor? This is not a time for revenge, but for reconciliation. The Pajists have contacts among the tribes. Most notably with the Erek-jhip-zhonad. You will need all their support to prevent the Almecs from domination.'

Ro shivered. 'Suddenly I am no longer tired,' he said. 'I thank the Source you were here.'

The house was an old one, built a century ago for an Avatar family. It was three-storeyed, and dressed with blue-veined white marble. Landscaped gardens flowed around the old house and a stream had been diverted to ripple over terraces adorned with blocks of white stone and multi-coloured pebbles. Flowering trees grew everywhere and the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine.